White Walls

I like to wake up just before the sun, open the curtains on our windows and watch the light brighten. Dawn is soft, a hazy gentle ‘hey….it’s morning’ – a little nudge followed by bird songs…

My favourite place in the world is in my home when the sun climbs from dawn to day – you’ve never seen so much gold. The leaves on the hanging plant in the window glow, glow ‘til they are glossy.

The light kisses everything good morning. Every surface, every hard edge, every shadow is glazed with light.

Fox, our beloved cat, plays with his toy on the bed, pouncing, rolling, darting, dashing through this glorious sunshine – his brown coat replaced with golden fur.

Music carries from the kitchen, dances lightly over the sun-spilled tiles.

This moment is my anchor.

The sun is so bright I have no doubt it’s flooding through me; I can feel myself growing taller in its beauty.

The morning sunshine has always been perfect here.

I still remember the first time I walked into this home.

A little brick nest above a row of 1960’s shops tucked away in the suburbs.

We found the front door straight away which has always added to my confusion when 80% of people who try to find our place seem to get hopelessly lost.

I painted the walls and ceiling an ‘ice blue’ white – I thought it would feel a bit like an art gallery. It didn’t really work…

My physio kept asking me when the painting would be over – all the kneeling and ladder climbing was wrecking his hard knee-saving work.

My best friend called me while I was up the ladder, paint pot and bush in hand, to tell me she was engaged.

My dad came over to help with the hard-to-reach places around the kitchen and I introduced him to Spotify – ‘Does it have Queen?’ he asked – we listened to a greatest hits album and dad commentated along with trivia and stories.

I lived in that white house for a year or two…I wasn’t meant to stay here very long, the plan was to paint it white, renovate, move out and rent it to young, easy going, wide-eyed uni students.

But I stayed. I swapped bedrooms between flatmates and painted my room dark grey.

A dark grey box amongst a white maze.

I remember watching Dave pull up outside in his little silver Barina the first time he came over. The front door was bright blue then with the word ‘two’ written across it in silver.

Just before our wedding we painted the other bedroom dark.

Two dark grey boxes invading a white castle.

I’d been planning the renovation since the first moment I’d stepped into the apartment – the potential to expand the space was the reason I’d bought this place.

The walls came down, the ceiling came down, the floors were stripped bare…and when everything was rebuilt, we bought tins and tins of dark grey and baptized every surface and ceiling in the dark side.

The sunlight still falls in every morning.

I’ve lived within these walls longer than I’ve lived anywhere in my life.

We’ve evolved together, these walls and I.

We’ve been demolished and rebuilt – painted and stripped back.

Every day we’re blessed in golden light – every day we’re held captive by sunshine, just for a sparkling moment. And that moment is all we need.

[Art by Bex Glendining]

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